Moving On
by masked-spangler
Summary: spoilers for 4.7, deals with rape . In the aftermath, Charlotte flees from anything like gentle, or pity, or grief. Amelia Shepherd is just hard enough herself to be a comfort.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Following my one-off episode response, there seemed to be demand for a longer fic exploring Charlotte's life after what's happened. This fic is my attempt. Hope I do it justice! Comments are truly cherished and appreciated. Hope you enjoy..._

* * *

The Short, Dangerous Friendship of Amelia Shepherd and Charlotte King

He's home for two painful, somber days before he gets the first work page that he can't ignore.

"Babe?" He shows her the pager. "Babe, I have to go out for awhile."

"Fine," she says.

"Amelia's coming over."

"Damn it, Coop, I said it's fine."

"I know you did. But she's the only one I could find who isn't working right now, so she's coming over."

"I'm not a baby."

"Didn't say you are."

"Or an invalid."

"Now, that one is debatable. Go on and pour yourself a glass of juice-without me-and I'll call her off and leave you to it."

She takes in the inevitability of the impending humiliation with one sweeping look from bandaged hand to fridge door to cupboard full of glasses.

"I can go without juice for a couple hours," she says after a moment.

"Be that as it may, she's coming over. I love you, babe."

She can't say anything to that. And if she's being honest (not that she is, necessarily, but if she were) she still isn't feeling great and she could use the distraction. And of the potential choices, she supposes Amelia is at least the less awkward one. She is trying to imagine Pete minding her-or Addison!-and she supposes she can handle Amelia Shepherd.

"Ground rules," she says, as soon as Cooper is gone. "We don't talk about this."

She sees a very brief flash of sympathy-briefer, thankfully, then what she'd get from any of the others-and then a curt, all-business nod. "Fair enough."

"And you don't treat me like a baby. You're here for Coop. He wants it that way."

"I'm here," Amelia says. "Because we're friends now, you and me. And I was in the mood for hanging out with my friend. You understand?"

Oh, yeah. Definitely the lesser of the evils, this one.

"Do you play Scrabble?" Amelia asks.

"Do I...?"

"Scrabble. There's a board full of squares, and tiny plastic tiles, and..."

"Amelia. My hand."

"Oh, bull crap to your hand, Charlotte King, there is nothing better for fine motor rehab than putting those tiny little tiles on a game board. Unless you're afraid I'll win?"

It takes her almost seven painful minutes to work the first word out of her tile rack and onto the board, and although she checks Amelia periodically for signs of impatience, or of pity, the woman is as poker a face as she has ever seen. And not a half-bad Scrabble player either. By the end of the game, she is exhausted, and her hand is throbbing something fierce, but she does feel a tiny bit less awkward in the giant bandage. When the hours drag by and she answers the call of nature, she manages the worst of it without assistance for the first time since the-the accident-and is spared the humiliation of help until she gets to the hand-washing part.

"All right," Amelia says. "You hungry?"

And again, Amelia pushes her, that poker face never revealing a hint of anything beneath the surface. A sandwich and chips, instead of the easier cup of soup Cooper's been making for her. Work those fingers, Charlotte King. Pick up the tiny chippy pieces and work 'em good.

It's all fine (it is, it is) until Amelia suggests she rest for a minute while the dishes get seen to. She's worked that bum hand harder than she planned to, and it's feeling sluggish and clumsy, lying like a shriveled sausage at the end of her bruised, tired arm. So when she reaches for the water glass, she isn't moving like she should, and that hand of hers swats itself into the lamp and sends it sprawling.

She remembers the crashing sound, the tinkle of broken glass as it falls to the floor, and then blackness. And screaming.

* * *

She comes to, and Violet is there. And Cooper. She's on the floor, and she doesn't remember getting there, but she's huddled up against the wall, forehead banging rhythmically into drawn, shaky knees, and she's screaming.

"Charlotte?" Violet's voice is first a question, then a strong, firm command. "Charlotte, look at me."

She bangs her head again, doesn't find the focal point she needs, screams some more and closes her eyes. Images, too fast for her to focus on. Broken glass. Spots of prickly light behind clenched, leaking eyes. And pain, oh god, the pain of it...

"Charlotte! Deep breaths hon, come on. Come back to us, Char. Deep breaths..."

At last, a task to focus on. She times the breaths to the bang of her head into her knees, one, two...then her equilibrium catches up to her again, and she stops screaming, stops banging. Goes limp.

Cooper, behind Violet. "Thank god. Violet, what the..."

Violet shushes him away, turns to her. "Charlotte? Can you look at me, hon?"

She lifts her head up from her knees, still feeling off somehow, like she's just waking up, like she's moving through sand.

"I knocked over the lamp," she says.

She sees Violet slump a little, and trade relieved glances with Cooper. No poker face, this one...

"God-damned hand. Still clumsy. Knocked over the..."

"I see that. You okay?"

She manages a short, bitter laugh. "Oh yeah. Just swell."

Violet makes a therapist face, suggesting to Cooper that he grab himself a cup of tea. He flees, a little gratefully, into the kitchen, taking Amelia with him. And Violet kneels down beside her and holds out her hand. "Shall we get you off the floor?"

It's a flashback, Violet tells her later. And knocking over that lamp was a triggering experience.

"But I don't remember seeing flashes," she protests. "Just...just hearing 'em, I guess. And then...and then you were here."

Violet seems only mildly alarmed at this clarification. She says something about another neuro exam, just to be on the safe side, but then explains that a flashback isn't always pictures. "It wasn't the image that triggered it, it was the sound. The glass breaking."

"So you're saying I got more of these coming my way, every time I knock something over with my stupid, clumsy hand?"

"I'm saying that today, right now, that was the trigger. It may be the only trigger. It may not be. But yes, you probably do have more of these coming your way. And that's normal, while you're in recovery."

"And how long do you expect this 'recovery' will take?"

"That depends a lot on how you handle this. Are you amenable to counseling, Charlotte?"

She's about to say no, when she remembers NA. She's not dumb enough to turn away a tool if it's useful, and she says so. Violet is again relieved.

"Okay, that's good. You know, there are special...there are people who specialize in the sort of experiences you've had. I can give you some names..."

More people, into her business. She shudders. "No. You."

"If you would prefer it that way, I'm honored."

"Just keep it business, you get me? When those sessions are done, I am still your chief of staff and you treat me that way if I ever need you for a consult, you hear?"

"You know, I have done this sort of thing before, Charlotte."

"I know. Just saying. I haven't, see?"

Violet moves closer, but is careful not to touch her or take her hand. "Well, whatever I can do to make this easier..."

She shakes her head. "Won't get easier until the pain heals up, I think. No meds, Violet. I'm still feeling it, like it happened just now."

"Well, that might explain, why the flashback was so intense for you. But even so, I'd still like that neuro check-up. Can you go in with Amelia tomorrow? Get it looked at?"

More time with her new buddy. Woo hoo.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Pete's come by to get Violet, and she doesn't even try to hide how relieved she is to see him.

"Pete...my hand..."

But he already has his bag out; he'd apparently expected this. She endures, through gritted teeth, while he inspects the damage.

"You've been pushing."

"A little. Don't want minders on me 'til the end of days, you know?"

"I know. But Charlotte, it's only been a few days. Can you be patient?"

"You know I can't. I need this done, Pete. Need to work again. Feel like I have my life..."

He doesn't say anything. After what happened, she's lucky she has any kind of life, isn't she? As a doctor, she has seen people endure worse than this. She supposes this should make her feel grateful. It isn't, but she supposes it should.

"Just make it stop a little, Pete. Can't sleep, like this. Can't ever sleep..."

He flexes the finger joints carefully, then gets out the acupuncture needles. "Any other symptoms?" he asks as he works.

There's been blood, in the bathroom, but she won't tell this to him. But after the humiliation of the pelvic exam, she can't quite face Addison yet either. She needs to choose someone, one person, to be the bearer of it all for her. Bad enough having even them in her business, but what can she do?

She waits until Cooper is in bed, after Pete and Violet have gone. Then she sneaks out into the living room and calls Amelia.

"Hey there," she greets her.

"Charlotte! Bit of a scare today, huh?"

There is just the right amount of matter-of-factness in this answer. It pleases her. "Yeah. Gonna work on that, with Violet, I think."

"Probably smart."

"Got some things to tell you. That okay?"

"Sure is."

"Hand hurts. Bad."

"How bad?"

"Bad enough I'm almost feeling like I deserve a special dispensation, just this one time."

"Now, you know I can't let that happen."

"Wouldn't have called you if I didn't know. I'm holding."

"Good girl."

"Some other stuff. Didn't want to get into it with Pete. I'm spotting. Maybe more than I should be after two days."

Even Amelia, tough nut that she is, sucks in a breath at that one. But she recovers and segues smoothly into dispassionate doctor mode. "All right. Can I bring Addison in on this? When you're here tomorrow?"

"Rather you didn't. But I suppose you should. You'll be there, with me?"

"Sure, if you'd like. What else?"

"Head hurts. Stress, I think, and lack of sleep. Anything you can do? About the sleep thing?"

"Let's see what we find when I examine you. What did Pete say?"

"Gave me tea. Has before, did again. I'm gonna need something stronger, this time around."

"Slippery slope, Char."

"Not that kind of strong. Hell, I don't know, you're the neuro doc, you tell me."

"I will, tomorrow. Charlotte? You tell Cooper yet?"

"Let's not go there. We don't talk about this."

"Well, okay. But we could, you know."

"We could. But we don't. You get me?"

"Loud and clear. So, 10ish? I'll come pick you up."

"9:30, and I'll have Coop bring me. Amelia? You still at Addison's place?"

"Yes."

"Well, you'll see her, I'm guessing. Before I will."

"That is entirely possible."

"Well, you warn her for me. An exam is all I'm asking for. No commentary."

"Noted. Try and sleep, will you, Char?"

And that's that. Taken care of. It feels good to take some action again.

* * *

Cooper won't talk to her. She slips silently back into bed, and his arm goes out to her, but he won't talk. She thinks her little episode earlier has traumatized him.

"Coop?"

He mumbles, turns over in his sleep. Reaches out to her again.

"Coop, I need you."

He snaps awake. "Wha..."

"Cooper, look at me."

His face turns to her, awake and sad and watching. He smiles, and gently squeezes her one good hand.

"You gonna leave me, Coop?"

"Huh? That's crazy talk. I love you, Charlotte."

She tries not to cry. Doesn't quite manage it. "I'm not my best right now."

"Oh baby, you don't always have to be."

It's what she needs to hear. She drops his hand and falls into exhausted, fitful sleep.

* * *

Morning. He feeds her, helps her wash.

"I'm coming in with you," she says. "Violet wants Amelia to run another neuro check."

"That sounds sensible," he says.

"She's gonna meet me there. Can you run me in?"

He nods. "And after?"

"And after, she'll run me back. She's still new here, Coop. No patients, really." She manages a rueful smile. "Just me."

He kisses her cheek, staying carefully on her good side. She wonders briefly if the rest of her life will be this way, the two of them always being careful, always stepping around the pain...

"Coop, can you do something for me?"

"Anything, Charlotte. Anything you need."

"Can you talk to Violet today? About you, I mean?"

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Just...just feeling like we're stepping around some tough stuff here. Trying to work myself up to telling you some. I don't...don't want to hurt you, Coop. I'm trying to do this right."

His eyes shimmer. "I love you so much right now."

She's gentler with his grief than she thought she'd be. "I know you do. I'm trying to do it right. Talk to her, will you? Tell her what I said? Do whatever she asks you?"

"I promise. You'll...you'll tell me? What Amelia says?"

"Yes," she says. "I'll tell you that."

* * *

Amelia meets her in the hospital coffee shop, a plastic cup and a small wrapped baggie lying in wait on the table beside her.

"You can have the coffee now if you want it," she says. "The cookie is for after."

She eyes the coffee warily, unsure she wants to provoke any bathroom issues with Addison due to have her hands down there so soon.

"Cookie now, coffee after," she counters.

"Nope. This is your reward for getting through my neuro exam," Amelia says, waving the cookie bag. "It's...it's gonna hurt, Char. I have to put you through it, and it's gonna hurt."

She sighs. "On with it than. Let's get it done."

It's thorough, she'll give Amelia that. She tries to end-run the pain by going somewhere else for awhile, but the only place she seems to get to when she goes inside her head is her office, that night, with him. Amelia seems to pick up on what's happening, stops a few times and waits for her. Mercifully keeps the poker face the whole way through. It takes longer than it should, and they are still at it when Addison comes in.

"Hey Addie," Amelia says. "Just finishing."

Addison frowns, glances at her watch. "You said..."

"Uh huh. Two minutes, Addie. Then she's yours."

Addison comes over. Smiles gamely and nods hello. And it happens again.

Her head falls back on her, and she feels that fugue panic of dark and light and noise. She smacks her hands against the grey of the exam table, and, screams.

* * *

Then she's awake again, and Amelia is watching her. Her hands are in restraints and her head is in a collar to keep it still. She struggles for a moment, then collapses into whimpery sobs.

"Well," Amelia says. "That was interesting."

She's groggy. "What..."

"You were still hooked up," Amelia says. "I had you on monitors. Look at this..."

She holds up a printout of the EEG. It's stable, a few spikes here and there, until the last third or so. Then, it goes haywire.

"Not sure if that was a full-on flashback or just a panic attack, but the good news is, I don't think it's a neuro problem. The bad news is, I think Addison might be a trigger for you, just like the lamp was."

"Great."

"I've called Violet in. She's on her way. But sweetie, we still need Addison to take a look down there. Don't we?"

She nods slowly, and Amelia opens the door. Addison comes back in, and she blushes. "Sorry about that."

"Hey, no problem." Addison smiles, and this time her gentleness is welcome. "We'll go slow, okay? You just tell me, if you need a break. You want Amelia to stay with you for this?"

She nods, closes her eyes, tries to block out this whole thing. It isn't much better inside her head than it is outside her body, and she feels her panic escalating, until Amelia squeezes her hand.

"So, did I ever tell you about the time Addison and me went on spring break together and spent the night in a tiki hut on a beach in Acapulco with a deejay from Memphis and a pair of transvestite Elvis impersonators?"

At last, an elsewhere to be. She relaxes, and keeps her fingers locked around Amelia's until the exam is done.

* * *

At some point, she sleeps a little. This surprises her, but she supposes even she has her limits, and the trauma of the morning was enough to wear down her defenses. When she wakes up, she's in a hospital bed, but still in her clothes, thank goodness, and Violet and Amelia are seated at her bedside, whispering together. Amelia is the first to notice she's awake.

"Hey! Feel better?"

She is chagrined to admit she does, a little. Sleep did her good, she guesses.

Amelia holds out the little white bag from earlier. "You were a trouper, Char. One cookie, as promised. You can have it while you talk to Violet, 'kay? I'm gonna go let Addison know you're awake. She'll want to talk to you, when this is done."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, about the..."

"Hey, it happens. But I'll tell her, if you'd like."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Cookie for you. I'll be back in a bit."

And she leaves her. Violet opens the bag for her, puts the cookie out onto the tray. "Hey, Charlotte."

"Yeah. So, you heard?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm still in my clothes, so I'm guessing you're not admitting me."

"Like I said. You have more of these coming your way. Believe it or not, it's actually a healthy sign. It shows that you're trying to work through this, Charlotte."

She snorts. "Doesn't seem like I'm doing very well."

"You're doing fine. It's a tough thing, what happened."

And like that, she's tired of it all. Tired of tiptoeing around this whole thing, of finding safer words to talk about what it really is. Hard enough, without having to pretend on top of it...

"You can say it," she tells Violet. "I'm ready now."

"Well then. Why don't you say it yourself?"

"He was never after my wallet. I only said he was so I wouldn't have to tell Pete and Cooper that he raped me. He raped me, Violet. That's what it was."

Violet exhales, that not-poker face slipping again into sad, soft sympathy. "Sweetie, I know it. I saw the office."

"Oh yeah?"

"You put up a hell of a fight, if that's any consolation."

"Not really."

"Yeah."

"Can Coop handle this, Violet?"

"He'll be sad. I know that makes you uncomfortable, having him look at you and you seeing that in his eyes. But if you can wait that out with him, he'll be there for you. Yeah, he can handle it."

"How do I tell him?"

"Would you like to bring him in here? Addison has an update for you. He'll hear it too. And I'll be here, for both of you, for whatever you need."

She nods. "Yeah. That'll be good."

"There are groups, you know. For you. And for him, too."

"Yeah?"

"A friend of mine runs one, for spouses and partners. It's a good group, Charlotte. He can put some of the shock and the grief in there instead."

She takes a deep breath. "Okay. Let's do it then. Call him?"

And it's done. She's put it in motion now, for better or worse. And it's done.

_to be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

By the time Cooper gets there, she's finished the cookie, gotten herself cleaned up a little and is relaxing as best as she can and trying to ignore the company. The room is crowded now. Amelia and Violet are there, and Addison. She's been told Pete is on his way to do another treatment with her, but that's the least of her problems. When Cooper comes in, he sees all the people, and blanches visibly.

"Bad news?" he asks.

Violet reaches over, takes his hand. "Sit down, Cooper."

He looks over, eyes almost as panicked as hers. "Charlotte?"

"I'm okay," she says. "Let's let 'em tell you. Amelia?"

"Neuro looks clear. We had a little, um, incident. But she was on a monitor when it happened, and I think it was just a panic attack. You'll get those."

He nods. "Violet said."

Addison clears her throat. "I did a pelvic," she says. "She had one, on the night of the...the..."

He closes his eyes. "No."

"Yes. There's been some spotting, since. But it's healing. She's healing, Cooper."

She gently pries Cooper's hand away from Violet, clasps it in her own. "Can I say it, Coop? Can I say the actual word?"

He still hasn't opened his eyes. "Oh, baby, no..."

"I'll be okay," she says. "Look at me, Coop. I need you to look."

He opens his eyes, he looks, and she can see the tears leaking down his face. "You gonna be okay with this?" she asks. "You gonna be okay, with...with me?"

"I'll always be okay with you," he says. "But this...wow. That it happened, and I wasn't there to...to..."

"No. It wasn't...Cooper, it wasn't..."

Violet gives her a subtle shake of the head, and she stops. "But me, Coop. You and me. We can come back from this, right?"

He collapses at her side, head resting on her thigh, and weeps. She never does get her answer.

* * *

Later, Violet reassures her.

"Misplaced guilt is very common with spouses and partners," she says. "That's one of the things he'll work through in the group."

"But we can come back from this. He and I, we can come back?"

"Oh, sweetie, of course you can. But you'll need to be patient. Both of you will have your better moments, and your...less better ones. Just be patient and do your best."

She nods. "Something else I should tell you. There's evidence."

"Oh?"

"Dropped my desk key in the planter. I have the...in my desk..."

"You okay to share that with our friends at the precinct?"

"If you square it up with them a little first. Can you do some kind of therapist thing, about why I didn't tell them sooner?"

"I'm sure we can work something out. It's good that you're doing this, Charlotte."

"Didn't say I'm doing anything yet. Only said there's a key to my desk."

"Of course. Can I send Addison in? I think she wants to talk to you."

She fights a sudden wave of nausea. "Guess so."

Addison comes in, and she has to fight the simultaneous impulses to vomit and smack the woman upside the head. That gooey, sad little expression. Those hands, down there...

"Hey, Charlotte."

"Addison."

"Violet tells me you're thinking of pursuing a case with this."

"Didn't say that. Said I had a key, in the planter."

Addison nods. "Well, if it helps you...I have some evidence too. Only washings, not the full...the full..."

She closes her eyes. "Being the kind of doc you are, you'd think you'd be better at saying the word."

"Yeah. Charlotte, I took samples. Evidence. I put a Jane Doe label on it and stuck it in the hospital fridge."

"That's kind of a violation, isn't it? After I said no?"

"Yeah. Yeah it is, and I'm sorry. Just thought you might want the evidence later, and I knew I could label it so that nobody would..."

"Addison?"

"Yes, Charlotte. I'm here."

"I respect you as a doc and all that. But I kind of want to throw up when I look at you."

Addison sighs. "Yeah. So, I'll see you in three days for a follow-up pelvic?"

She closes her eyes. "Whatever."

* * *

She can't go home yet. When Amelia comes back from wherever she was hiding during the Great Revelation, she pleads with her to take her somewhere.

"Where do you want to go?" Amelia asks.

"Don't ask me that. You won't like my answer."

"Well, if it involves a bar and a pitcher of margaritas, then you're probably right about that. So how about I choose?"

"Fair enough."

"Let's check into a hotel," she says. "Get away from both of our respective housemates. We can get room service, and ice cream, and pay per view. On me."

The ice cream is vanilla, with sprinkles and chocolate sauce. The movie is a frothy piece of tripe starring Meg Ryan. She falls asleep on a giant king-size bed with Amelia spooned up beside her. She never calls Cooper to tell him where she is.

* * *

When she wakes up again, he's there somehow. He's reading a newspaper and there is a room service cart beside him. She doesn't see Amelia.

"Morning, sunshine," Cooper says.

"She call you?"

"Only so I wouldn't worry. I missed you last night."

"Uh huh."

"Guess we both needed some space, to absorb the...the shock of it all. So first thing I wanted to say is, thanks for understanding that and letting me have that night."

"Welcome."

"And I have been thinking about this. I was up all night thinking. And sweetheart, I want to tell you, I just love you so much. I'm so, so sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me. I'm sorry I haven't-I won't-always handle this the perfect way. But you are brave, and you are strong, and I am so grateful to have you in my life, Charlotte King. We'll get through this, you and me. Whatever it takes, we'll get through it. Are you in this with me?"

She cries. She can't help herself. Is she with him in this? Of course she is.

He watches her for a moment. Then she breathes out the last of her sniffles and pulls him in. "So, here's the first thing," she says. "You can touch me, Coop."

"Yeah? I was worried that..."

"I know. And the...the other stuff...that might wait. I'm told it'll be some weeks before I even can, physically. And mentally, we might need to...to work up to it or something. But you can touch me, Coop. You don't have to be afraid."

He nods. "Okay. What else, baby? What else do you need?"

"Need to work my hand. No more cup-a-soup, I need to work my hand."

"Okay..."

"And..." She takes a deep breath. This will be a big ask. "When the police are done...I'm gonna talk to them later, and then they have some work to do. But there will be an all-clear sometime. And I'll need someone to clean up my office for me. Doesn't have to be you. But someone."

"We'll do it. All of us will."

"No, not all of you. This is my business, Coop. You know it now. Violet knows too, bound by privilege, but she knows. Amelia, that's my choosing. And Addison, for obvious reasons. That's it, though. And it stays that way. You hear me?"

"I hear you. Whatever you need, Charlotte."

"No, that's not right. You'll need things too."

"Whatever WE need, then. Can I...can I talk to Violet too? Or will that be weird for you?"

"Talk to whoever you need. There's a group, Violet said."

"Yeah. And one for you too. You'll go?"

"I'll go."

He holds up a little white bag. "Addison left this with me. Said she talked to you about some anti-virals..."

"No pain stuff, Coop."

"No, no pain stuff. They might...it's strong stuff, Charlotte. It'll be rough on your system, for a couple of days."

Yeah. A lot of things are going to be rough, she guesses. Whoopee.

* * *

She takes the pills along with Cooper's room service breakfast, and is sorry. Halfway home, in the car, her eyes go blurry on her.

"Coop, I'll be sick."

He lurches over to the shoulder of the road, pulls out a plastic grocery bag. "Hey. It's okay."

But it's not okay. The loss of control galls her, as much as anything. Having him tend to her. Having herself need the tending. But by the time they struggle home, she's too out of it to mind even that. It's all she can manage to lie there, and endure it.

"Close your eyes," he keeps telling her, and she can hear the mounting worry in his voice as he checks on her for the second, the fifth, the ninth time. "Just lie back and close your eyes and you'll feel better."

She doesn't try and tell him what happens when she closes her eyes. She just lies there and tries to feel as little as possible.

She's dimly aware of activity. Cooper, easing off her clothes. Touching the bruises a little, taking the damage in. Her body is too whacked out by the drugs to even flinch away from him when his hand brushes up against something that's hurting as he slips her into the t-shirt and sweats. She thinks Pete comes by at some point. Maybe Violet too. She doesn't care, about any of it. She just lies there and tries to breathe.

At some point, everyone is gone, and only Amelia is there. She opens her eyes, unaware that she had closed them.

"Hey."

"Hey. You back with us, a little bit?"

"Guess so. Cooper?"

"Out."

"Violet?"

"She'll be back later."

"So, you get stuck with me."

"Hey, I choose with whom I spend my time."

She coughs, rolls over, spits into the garbage can. "Yeah. Some company I am."

Amelia comes over, sits. Holds a cup with a straw, and presses it toward her face. "Juice?"

"No. Thanks."

"Yes, actually. You've lost electrolytes. Probably dehydrated, you know."

"Yay for me."

"And still feeling sorry for yourself, apparently."

"Do you blame me?"

Amelia sighs. "Look, I'm trying to keep this on the bright side, you know? I figure you have enough worrying on you, with them. So I'm just going to act regular here. I'm just gonna go about my business and be this awesome new friend you've made who has nothing at all to do with anything."

"And with that, we're done talking about it?"

"Until you tell me otherwise. You know, you do need to drink the juice, though."

She tries it. Almost throws up again. But she's cheered a little by Amelia's stubbornly dispassionate face.

"Okay, so the cops won't be here for another hour or so. I figure we have time for another game. I brought Battleship this time."

"Amelia..."

"Lots of little pieces. Good for your hands."

"Amelia, I feel like dog meat here."

"You can be red, or you can be blue. I'm usually blue, but under the circumstances, I'll let you pick."

It's rough going, at first. She still feels woozy, and her hand is in absolute agony. She's tender from the pelvic, too. But Amelia is right to distract her. Bucking up always does more for her spirits than wallowing does, and by the time the police get here, with Violet in tow, she's feeling almost human again.

She runs through it again, with the cop Violet's brought with her. He's apparently been briefed; he's gentler than he looks like he'd be, and he doesn't chastise her for how she's handled things. He has some pictures, and she zeroes in on one of them right away.

"That one."

His cop face is as blank as Amelia's. She looks at the picture again, feels her pulse quickening, feels her head rolling back as that terrible pop of hysteria fogs her up again, like Addison, like the broken lamp...

...and she feels Violet's arms wrap suddenly around her, sensing it coming too.

"Hold it together, Charlotte. Breathe through it, and hold it together for me, 'kay?"

Her hands are shaking, her head banging into her knees, but she clenches her fists a little tighter and tries to breathe. Violet is cradling her, rocking her a little, crooning at her like she's a baby.

"There we go, Charlotte, there we go. Fight it, hon. Good girl. Breathe..."

"Well," says the cop. "That's the one, I guess."

Violet is holding her, stroking her hair, rubbing circles into her back with the hand that's free.

"So, can we get him?"

"Shelly had him that night. Was on the 51-50 when we picked him up, you know."

"So, that's good," Violet says. "That's good, isn't it? Good girl, Char, you're okay..."

But she doesn't feel okay. It's worse, now that he has a face again, now that she has seen his face and imprinted it into her brain when she was out of the throes of it. How can she ever go out again, knowing she might see that face, out there? Knowing that he might see hers?

Her eyes roll back, and there is only blackness. Again.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

She wakes to an insistent squeeze of her hand, and Violet's voice, still crooning in her ear.

"Charlotte? You with me, babe?"

"Violet..." Her throat is scratchy, but she manages an answer. And to her surprise, is rewarded with a bright, cheerful grin.

"Well, that was better!"

"It was?"

"You were only out for a second. And you stayed with me, kept breathing. No screaming this time. This is better."

She feels like she's been through the wringer. It hasn't been this bad since the night of the attack...

"So now," Violet is saying, "we build on this."

"I'm gonna pass out."

"No, you're not. You're going to breathe. You still nauseous from the meds?"

"Very."

"Breathe through it. Have some juice and catch your breath. Now, how's the hand?"

"Throbbing."

"Slow and steady...come on, you'll feel better if you do. Anything else hurting?"

"Yes."

"In and out, nice and easy. There you go. Your hands are shaking."

"Yeah. I see that, thanks."

"But you didn't black out. That would be a ten, if you did. And you're not banging your head, which would be a nine, I think. So where does that put the screaming? An eight? Or is there anything between those two?"

"Violet, I don't want to talk right now."

"Tough cookies, we're doing it. So?"

She sighs. "There is a noise," she says. "A crash, like a popping sound."

"All right. We'll make the noise our seven. You with me so far?"

"Yup."

"So, let's see. Your hands are still shaking, and you're feeling anxious and sick. Where would you put yourself, on a scale of one to ten?"

"Five and a half. And escalating. Jesus, Violet, did you see his face?"

"We'll come back to that in a second. All right, here's what we do, we try and keep ourselves below a six. Because when we escalate, we know now where that goes."

She rests her head on the back of the sofa and closes her eyes. "Easier said than done."

"For now, maybe. We'll get there though. Keep breathing and remember that every escalation on the scale is another signpost, another chance to stop and dial it back again. The hands start shaking? You know you're climbing up the scale, so you try to reign it in. That doesn't work, and you go up a level? You breathe and you try and stop again. Now, let me ask you something. Do you know what a mantra is?"

"Like, Om or something?"

"Or something. It's a focal point, Charlotte. Something you repeat to ground yourself again and remember that you're okay. I'm Fine, or Cooper Loves Me, or something like that..."

"It's over," she says.

"Okay. So you breathe, and you say it to yourself. It's over, it's over, it's over. See?"

"It's over," she says. "It's over, it's over, it's over..."

And she feels the knot in her gut relaxing, feels her hands go still. And Violet, watching her, smiling.

"There we go. Where are we now, a four? A three?"

"About that."

"Keep breathing, Charlotte. Now tell me about the rest of it. You saw his picture."

Her hands clench, and she scrunches shut her eyes. "It's over, it's over, it's over..."

Violet pushes back, gets to her feet again. "All right. Maybe enough for today?"

She exhales. "Thank god."

"I'm gonna set some guidelines here. You won't like this, but it's for your own good. Charlotte, I don't want you to be alone right now."

"Coop's here. Or...someone..."

"Or someone's not good enough. You can't be alone. I'll talk to Cooper, work out a schedule. You comfortable having me here?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"And Pete?"

"If I have to."

"Amelia?"

"She's fine."

"Sheldon?"

She shakes her head.

"Addison?"

"Hell no."

Violet sighs. "We'll have to work on that one. If you want me to clear you to work again, you can't have one of your co-workers be a trigger."

She frowns. "You have to clear me to work again?"

"Hospital rules."

"Crap. Who's in charge right now?"

"Bolan."

"That's good. He's solid."

"Yeah. He'll hold, until you're ready. But Charlotte, I'll have to clear you first."

"One thing at a time, Violet. One thing at a time."

"Okay. See you tomorrow?"

"I'll try and hold out 'til then." She says it in a joking tone. But she isn't entirely joking.

* * *

Cooper comes back with take-out: pizza and and a salad. She can eat the pizza with her hands, but the salad is a fork thing. He's taking her at her word: no more cup-a-soup.

"I'm not hungry," she complains.

"Too bad. I'm taking care of you. You need your strength right now."

"But I was strong. Didn't get me anywhere, when it came down to it."

"Char..." He looks like he's going to cry again. "You fought then. Can't you fight now too?"

She chokes down half a slice of pizza and three bites of salad, then shoves the plate aside. "I'm done."

And she means it. Too much today, all of it was too much. And now, here's Cooper, with his earnest, worried face...

She's exhausted. And she isn't feeling well. And her mind is desperately in need of something to think about besides how tired and hurt and scared she is. She needs oblivion. And that scares her as much as anything she's felt today.

* * *

She sleeps, somehow. She remember Cooper waking her, telling her he's leaving. She's shivering under the blankets and not yet ready to crawl out for more abuse. She could stay here all day. But he's left her some pills, and when she takes them, they send her crawling to the bathroom, retching as she goes.

And Amelia is suddenly at her side, and Violet's clearly briefed her-Amelia is rubbing her back and saying the mantra and telling her to breathe. When she comes up for air, Amelia's smiling.

"Juice?" she offers.

"Bite me."

"Atta girl. Okay, have the juice and come out with me. You're going to love this one."

She groans. "More games?"

"Well, I could sit here and let you just wallow all day, but you need to work your hand, my friend. Look what I have for you." She holds out a box. "It's Hungry, Hungry Hippos. You ready?"

It's a red plastic board with four opposing hippos and a pile of marbles in the middle. On go, you smack the lever on your hippo and try to trap the most marbles under his colourful plastic snout. The perfect chore to rehabilitate a broken wrist...

"I should be working," she complains. Isn't there some journal or something I could be reading?"

"Oh, sure." Amelia picks something up from the stack beside her bed. "Here's one, from the latest JAMA. It's about forensic nurses, and preserving the chain of evidence for patients who have been sexually assaulted.

Hands. Gut. Noise. It's over, it's over, it's over...

Amelia can't quite keep back the smirk. "As I thought. Now, do you want to be the green hippo, or the yellow one?"

* * *

They're getting lunch ready when Pete stops by.

"Hey, Amelia. Want a break for awhile?"

"Yeah, these guys need food. Mind if I take the car for a bit? Run by the grocery store?"

She shrugs. She's only going through the motions, so it's all the same to her.

Pete looks her up and down, taking it all in.

"Did you want to talk about this?" he asks her.

"Not really."

"What can I do?"

"The pain's better today. Not much better. But it's a start."

"That's good. You sleeping?"

"When I get tired enough. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"When did it get normal again? For Violet and you?"

He frowns. "Normal is kind of a loaded word."

"I need something, Pete. Some timeline, for how long it's gonna be this way. How long am I going to stuck in this house playing board games with Amelia?"

"That part, probably not so long. But normal? Back where you were before this happened? Some people never get there. I mean, Violet, she's...look, think of it this way. It's like surgery, in some ways. The incision heals, and sometimes you can't even tell it's there anymore. But there's always scar tissue. Underneath it, there's always scar tissue, and when you strain it from time to time, it hurts."

At last, an analogy she can understand. "Well, okay then. So the incision is still kind of raw underneath the bandages. And maybe I need to go easy for awhile."

"Atta girl."

"Pete?"

"Yes, Charlotte?"

"You gonna tell Violet we talked about this?"

He grins. "Let her have her own talk, if she wants to. No?"

She nods approvingly. She always knew she liked Pete.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

Cooper comes home, and for once, she's resting peacefully. Amelia is out there somewhere, putting groceries away and cleaning up a little. And thanks to Pete, she has something else to think about.

Cooper comes in and sees the faintest trace of a smile on her.

"Hey, Charlotte."

"Coop."

"Whatcha thinking about?"

She snuggles deeper into her blanket, feeling calmer than she has in days. "I'm thinking about what kind of surgery it is."

"Um...okay..."

She tells Cooper about what Pete said. "So I figure," she finishes. "That I should decide what kind of surgery it was, so that I'll know when the incision's gonna stop feeling so raw and painful."

He frowns. "I don't think Pete meant it quite that literally."

"I'm only saying. Laparoscopic, and the bleeding would have stopped by now. But quadruple bypass, and I'm looking at a few more weeks."

He doesn't look nearly as comfortable as she is with the metaphor. "But Charlotte, it wasn't a bypass. It was a..."

"Don't say it. I'm working the visual, Coop. And it's better picture than the one than that really happened. You got something else for me to see in my head right now?"

He leaves her be. But she suspects this conversation is going on his list of things to report to Violet, and she's starting to regret how tangled up this whole thing has gotten with Cooper's friend. Thank god she has Amelia. Cooper can't stand that girl.

* * *

Violet's back, bright and early, with Pete in tow. He checks her hand, does his thing with the needles. Leaves her as fit and free of pain as he can for a big day, because Violet clearly has plans for her.

"I want to work through this Addison thing," she announces as soon as Cooper's gone.

"A little soon for that, don't you think?"

"Well, we can't wait forever. And I think it'll be an easier one to lick than some of the other subjects we could tackle, don't you?"

She remembers yesterday, the police visit, and the picture of the man who did this to her. She feels her fist clenching, sending waves of pressure up her casted arm. It's over, it's over. She closes her eyes, tries to breathe again.

"As I was saying," Violet says.

"All right. So how do we do it?"

"I've brought some work with me. I'll stay out of the way, unless I hear you call for me."

She frowns. "I don't understand."

"She's coming over, Charlotte. She'll spend the day with you."

"Like hell she will! I'm not even dressed yet."

"She'll help you."

"She'd have to touch me, for that."

"Yes. She will. And you'll have to let her do it without throwing up on her, or blacking out, or getting anywhere past a six on that scale of yours. She's a friend, Charlotte."

"She's a trigger. You said it yourself."

"And I said also that it's one you'd have to work through that one before I could clear you to work again. She's a friend."

"Maybe I don't need a friend right now. Not her kind of friend."

"Look, I see what's going on here. She was the one who examined you, right after. It's understandable that this would set up some associations."

"I'm already very tired of talking about this."

"I'll be here if you need me. But I'm staying out of the way."

And that's that. She stays in bed, determined to sulk about this for as long as she can before Addison arrives to spoil her day.

* * *

It's the pity eyes that set her gut on edge. Addison comes in, comes right up to the bedroom, and is looking at her with these sad, pitiful eyes...

"Stop that," she snaps. "If you're gonna be all weird about this..."

And there is a veneer of defensiveness beneath that pity as Addison regards her with a smirk. "Good morning to you too."

Her head is pounding. When did that start? It's over, she tells herself. It's over, it's over, it's over...

Her fists clench. What did Violet call this? Escalation. She scrunches shut her eyes, fighting tears, but the mantra isn't working, and in her head, she's hearing broken glass and broken bones, and screaming, and she tries again, tries all of them again, Cooper loves me, I'm okay, it's over, it's over, it's over...

She rolls over, throws up into the garbage can. Then collapses back onto the sweaty sheets with a whimper.

"Well," says Addison. "Let's get you dressed."

She white-knuckles it through the bathroom business, through Addison's hands on her clothes, on her arm, at her waist. She's aware that her breathing is a little off, but it's well under six-all right, under eight, but she's keeping the screaming in her head this time-and she reminds herself, she hasn't actually thrown up ON Addison, exactly. But both of them seem much more comfortable once the parts she needs help with are done and they can do the breakfast thing and keep their hands to themselves.

"Coffee?" Addison asks.

She shakes her head. "I still need straws. And electrolytes, apparently. Anti-virals are hell on your system."

"Yes." Addison nods enthusiastically, happy to have this excuse for her earlier weakness. "Yes, I've heard they are."

Addison pours her the juice, puts the straw in. Then surveys the cupboards with a chipper smile. "Well? What do you usually eat for breakfast?"

"Cereal, I guess. I'm supposed to use cutlery, rehab the hand. Didn't they tell you anything?"

Addison puts down the cereal box and faces her, all serious again. "Look, I don't know if this is any consolation. But this is hard for me too, you know."

She shrugs. "It's not really a consolation. But I appreciate you saying it."

"I was helping you. Trying to, anyway. And now, you have this thing...I don't know how to...do you really feel sick? When you look at me?"

"Nothing personal," she says. "But apparently, I have an association."

"Yeah. I get it, I do, but I have to admit, it hurts a little."

"Uh huh. So, can I have my cereal now?"

Addison plates it, pours in the milk, sets it in front of her. She looks tall and clumsy and uncomfortable; worrying the hem of her shirt, wanting to sit, not sure she should be.

"Look, stop pacing, will you?"

Addison blushes. "Sorry."

"And stop being so nervous. This isn't my fault, you know. This isn't my doing. None of this is."

Addison nods. "I know, I know. Just..."

"Just nothing. Stop talking so much and let's just work through it, 'kay?"

Addison nods again, sits down at last. "So, where are you right now? On that scale of yours, where are you?"

"Oh, this much you know. Well, all right. Six. Hovering toward seven and trying not to be. Working through it, like I said."

"Okay, that's good. Six is good. So...what do we do? I mean, I'm here all day with you, what do we...do, exactly?"

"Well, Amelia and I have been playing board games."

Addison laughs. "Seriously?"

"She's more a Scrabble fan. I like Hungry, Hungry Hippos myself. You smash things. It's cathartic."

"Oh my god, seriously?"

"Don't make me smack you."

"Right. Well, is that...is that what you want to do today, then?"

"Are you kidding me? Hell no. You got a better idea?"

* * *

They spend the morning sorting out the stack of journals that she's been neglecting while she tries to get this whole mess past her. Addison has taken to heart the suggestion to work her hand and keep her active. And for herself, she's just grateful to find something they can do that doesn't involve talking about the heavy stuff. Or touching each other. They've cleared a spot on one of the bookcases, and Addison passes the journals up from the floor and she transfers them to the shelves in the proper order. After an hour or so, she's tired. That little pill she had with breakfast (five more weeks of this, god help her) kicks in, and she needs to sit for awhile. Addison climbs to her feet, stretches, then stashes the journal in her hand on the nearest cubby.

She follows behind her, picking up the journal as she goes and moving it two shelves over. It wasn't the right spot. She straightens the spine as she leaves so everything lines up evenly, and feels the knot in her gut loosen. Down to a five again. What do you know.

They move to the couch, Addison taking the chair instead, respectfully keeping her distance. She's getting used to the reaction from the anti-virals. She'll be shaky for an hour or so, then she'll be able to knuckle past it. And do what, exactly? Addison is staring at her, doing the pity eyes again. Violet comes in to check on them.

"She's only thrown up once so far," Addison tattles.

"Not ON you, though!"

Violet sighs. "Give me a number, Charlotte."

"Five."

"Really? You look a little peaky."

"Anti-virals kicked in. We're playing nice, Violet. I promise we are."

"Well, I have a surprise for you."

"Oh?"

Violet pulls out a bag with the Body Shop logo on it. It's filled with lotion, and polish and pumice stone and all things nails.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"It'll feel good. A little beauty break. No?"

Her hands are shaking, and Violet notices. "Now, come on."

"Violet..."

"I want her touching you, Charlotte. I want you touching her. It's the only way you'll get past this."

"I'm gonna be sick."

"You'd better not be. I gave you a freebie already. Addison, you don't mind?"

"God, no. Girl bonding. This'll be fun!"

"Violet, you can't...you can't..."

"Breathe, Charlotte. Come on, now..."

"Shut up, you! I'm done, okay? No more therapy."

Violet comes up beside her, and the firm mother tone is gone now, and she has the pity eyes too. "Charlotte. Oh sweetie, I'm so, so sorry this is..."

"Screw sorry. You call Cooper. You get him home now. And both of you crazy bitches, stay the hell away from me."

"This is normal. All this is normal."

"Well, screw normal too. Can you call Amelia then?"

Violet considers. "If Amelia comes over, can Addison stay?"

"Why don't we just bench this, for a day or so, at least? I get that there's a process here. I'm just real tired of being a project..."

"Oh sweetie, I get that, I do. And if you could get through twenty-four hours without a total meltdown, I'd be right there with you on that. But I've been there, Charlotte. I've been right where you are now. And once you get past this first little hump, you'll feel so much better, you'll amaze yourself. Look, Pete told you it's like surgery?"

"How did you..."

"It's actually a good metaphor. You know how surgery works. You have an open heart on the table, and you want to close it and let the patient go back to their life again. But you know that it won't heal properly unless you get the blockages clear first and pinch off the bleeders on the weaker vessels."

"That's dirty tricks, using that on me."

"Sleep a little. Have lunch. I'll send Amelia over. She can stay with you this afternoon, while you work this out with Addison. It's a bleeder, Charlotte. We have to pinch it off."

She slowly exhales. "All right. Five again. Sorry I yelled at you."

Violet shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time. You get it now? You see the deal here?"

"Yeah, I'll behave."

"Good girl. We'll talk later."

Then Violet is gone, and it's just her and Addison, who for the first time is looking a little terrified, like she may not fully have grasped what she is in for. Well, good. She shouldn't be the only one who finds this all a little uncomfortable.


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

They set up at the kitchen table, a cushy chair pulled up for her-she's still unsteady from the anti-virals-and a regular one for Addison. There is a bowl of water, a nail file, lotion. Bottles and tubes.

"So," says Addison, eyeing her cast with a dubious look. "I'm guessing pedicures, for you?"

"You sure do like touching me down below, don't you, Montgomery?"

Addison blanches. "Charlotte..."

"Look, just do it, okay?"

Her eyes are scrunching shut already. She feels her hands twitching and reminds herself to breathe.

"You know," Addison says. "You could try and enjoy this a little. I have very good hands."

"Don't have to enjoy it," she says. "Only have to get through it without throwing up on you. You ready?"

Addison looks so wounded, she almost feels guilty. But then she feels those hands on her, and everything goes suddenly blurry. She blinks, whispering her mantra, and Addison stops and holds her hands away.

"Whoa. Okay, then."

"No," she says. Her eyes are watery, she's clenching them so tight, but she'll get through this. It's the only way to end this thing...

"I'm okay. Let's finish."

When Addison speaks again, it's different. She's changed tacks and is speaking in that same soft, gentle tone she used that night.

"I have some warm water here. I'm going to put your feet in for a second while I get the rest of this set up, okay?"

To her surprise, she finds herself relaxing. Addison does a great doctor voice, and treating this latest indignity like what it is-a procedure-turns out to be the right approach. And she has to grudgingly respect the woman for treating her so gently when she has been, let's face it, not very nice to her.

Screw that. She's better than this, isn't she? She's chief of staff at a major hospital where her reputation as a hard-as-nails tough girl is legendary. She is better-much, much better-than this!

"There's going to be a peppermint smell," Addison is saying in that same sweet, crooning voice. "It's lotion, to soften your skin, and I'm going to touch you now so I can put in on you. Okay?"

She braces herself. Then she closes her eyes and lets herself relax.

* * *

Later, it's done, and she's feeling limp and oddly rested.

"Addison?"

"Yes, Charlotte."

"Thank you."

Addison practically collapses. "Oh my god, it worked. It worked, didn't it? We're good now?"

"Two things."

"Name them."

"Number one, you shouldn't have done the rape kit."

"Charlotte..."

"No. That was my choice, Addison. MY choice. Hell, you're a doctor too, you know the stats on those. Less than half of 'em lead to any kind of conviction."

"But the evidence..."

"...is tainted anyway because you haven't got the proper training. Your specialty is OB neonatal, not evidence collection."

"But don't you want him caught? Don't you want him to..."

"What I want and what will likely happen aren't necessarily the same thing. I know what Sheldon saw. The man who did this, worst he'll see is the psych ward. I know the odds. So I chose protecting myself over protecting the process, and I made that choice the second it was you I called. Don't you get it, Addison? By the time you end-runned my decline of consent, it was all a moot point anyway."

At last, she has Addison looking just a little horrified. "I'm sorry. I didn't..."

"Yeah, I know. And you won't again, either. One thing you can do for me if you really want to help is take some training on this. Do better next time, Addison. That's something that really would make a difference."

"Done."

"The second thing. You need to promise me that when all of this is over and I'm back out there, you can put this away for me. I still have to work with you. I can't have this being weird."

"I'll try."

"No, you'll DO. Work with Violet, if you have to. Or Sheldon. Whoever. But this has to go in a box, Montgomery. You get me? Do whatever follow-ups you need with me, check out whatever parts needs checking. But then, it's done. And you put it in a box and you work with me, just like you did before."

"Can I say it, one more time, how sorry I am?"

"You've said. Now, put it in a box."

The poor woman looks almost as wrung as she does. She sighs. "All right, I'll do yours now. Do you want red, or do you want pink?"

* * *

Amelia breezes in about an hour later, with yet another grocery bag and a box of pizza that's still hot and dripping.

"Hey, girlies. Whatcha up to?"

Addison is lounging on the sofa, so mellow she's practically comatose. "I did her feet. She did my hands."

"She did, did she?"

"Well, it's a more practical way to rehab her hand than what you had her doing..."

"Touche. So, we're all friends now?"

"Violet is a genius," Addison says.

"Charlotte?"

"Hmmm?

"You hungry?"

This is what she loves about Amelia. Pizza should be gooey and soft. But people...

* * *

Violet comes by to check on them. She hasn't had the heart to kick out Addison yet, and in the time since dinner, they've done Amelia's nails and played two games of Hungry. Hungry Hippos. Amelia greets Violet with a loopy grin and holds out her fingernails.

"Look, Vi. We're rehabbing her hand."

Amelia and Addison both burst into giggles. She lies there, taking it all in.

"Charlotte?" Violet asks. "You feeling okay?"

"Stop asking me that."

"It's my job. As your therapist, and as your friend. So, tell me."

"As what? Are we having therapy right now? Should I do your nails too?"

Amelia throws up her hands. "And there goes the good mood."

"Now, shut it, you. There was some progress, sure. But I've had a difficult day."

Addison puts down the glass of wine she's nursed since dinner. "Well, there's my cue."

"Mine too," Amelia says. "If Violet's here already, then Cooper must be on his way."

She can feel her heart-rate suddenly spiking. "Oh, so that takes you off the hook, then? Babysitting done?"

"Oh, come on. He hates me, Char. And breathe, babycakes, you look like you're escalating."

"I'm not!"

Amelia grins. "Oh, come on. You so want to smack me right now."

She sits up, face flushing with a rush of heat strong enough to almost alarm her. But then she sees the wineglass on the table, and suddenly deflates. "That doesn't go there."

Addison turns, purse already slung over her shoulder. "Hmmm?"

"That glass. It doesn't go there."

Addison and Violet trade glances. "Okay," says Addison slowly. "Where would you like it to go?"

"Don't talk to me that way!"

"What way?" Addison asks. But she's looking at Violet when she says it...

"Like I'm slow? Like I'm crazy?"

"Nobody's talking to you that way."

The fingers on her good hand curl, and her body tightens. "I just...want...to HIT someone..."

"This is normal," Violet says.

"Stop SAYING that!"

"Charlotte, look at me. This is just another form of escalation, you hear me? You do the same thing. You say your mantra and you breathe it out. You with me?"

She's hissing out the mantra through clenched teeth. "No more therapy today..."

"You're suffering," Violet says. "You don't have to be. Just breathe it out, Charlotte."

"Can't solve everything that way..."

"No, you can't solve it. But you can calm yourself down so you can think again."

Damn it. She hates it when Violet is right.

* * *

The others disperse, and that's when the exhaustion hits. Too many highs and lows today, too many moods, and much too much talking on top of it all. Violet is staying until Cooper gets back-he's somewhere with Pete, and the both of them will be here soon enough. But Violet clearly senses her mood because she leaves her there on the couch, cuddled gingerly underneath the blankets, so spacey she can hardly hold a thought.

She hears the door open, hears Cooper come in with Pete. She's dimly aware that Violet isn't with her now, that she's gone to the door to intercept. She catches bits and pieces of the update-something about Addison, that's good. And then something about mood swings and violent outbursts, and escalations, and that favourite word of Violet's, normal.

Coop's scared. She can hear it in his voice, and she doesn't know what she's going to do with it. She's scared enough, herself. She's lived with that little core of temper for most of her life, but this feels different. It comes and goes much faster than it ever used to, and it's tinged with a layer of panic underneath it all that never was there before. She's scared. When has she ever been scared before?

Then Pete comes in. Cooper isn't with him. And she starts crying, before she can help herself.

"Charlotte?" He's so gentle. "Charlotte, honey, what's wrong?"

"Just...feel like crying..."

He nods, kneels down beside her. Silently holds her hand until she's done.

* * *

They get her settled, and Coop comes in with her. He still won't talk, but that's okay, because she's plain wrung out, and her limbs are like jelly. She isn't even aware that she's in bed until she wakes up there, screaming.

"Charlotte?" Cooper shoots awake and tries to put his arm around her, but she's stuck, the sheets all tangled at her feet, and she swears she sees blood...

"Charlotte!" Cooper's shouting now, and she tries to grab for him, but there's hands, up against her mouth, and a fist, crashing down on her, and a horrible ripping in her belly...

Then it's Violet's name he's calling as he flees, and she's left there alone, reliving it.

She comes out of it again to voices.

"Charlotte?"

It's Violet, and she's so gentle and sad.

"Charlotte, you with me, hon?"

"Coop?"

"He's making tea."

"Huh. You got here quick."

"I didn't leave. You pushed hard today."

"Yeah."

"I thought we might get something like this."

"Like what? You gonna throw out yet another fancy shrink word here?"

"If you think 'nightmare' is a fancy shrink word, then yes."

She props herself up as best she can. "You're telling me that's all that was?"

"Yup."

"Damn." She can't help pouting a little. "And I thought I was getting better."

"You are! Charlotte, I want to tell you, you've been amazing. I don't remember ever having a patient who worked this hard. But it's not over yet."

"Yeah. Guess I thought I could make it be over, pushing this way."

"I speak from personal experience when I tell you, you can't. I know this is really hard for you to hear right now, but you're going to have to be patient. This takes time."

"And while I'm waiting for this time to pass? What am I supposed to do, exactly?"

"Have some really sucky nights where you over-exert yourself and pay for it with really crappy sleep. I'm sorry. I wish I had something better to tell you."

"Unacceptable answer."

"What can I say? Life's a bitch. I'm proud of you. Taking on Addison today."

"I still call dirty tricks on that. But thanks. Violet, I think Coop bailed on me."

"He's scared."

"And yet, I'm the one getting the Buck Up, Soldier speech. Violet, shouldn't he have to try, at least as hard as I am?"

"Yeah. He should. I'm taking him to the partners and spouses group tomorrow."

"And tonight? Right now?"

"He's making tea."

She's quiet for a moment. "Unacceptable answer," she finally says.

Violet sighs. "What can I say? Life's a bitch."


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

When morning comes, she feels like going out again. As she lies there, doing her new little morning check of all the bits, she finds she can open her eye all the way again. And the hand is still a bitch, but she's used to it now, it's background noise. She can function, she decides. She wants her life again. And she's tired of being stuck at home with all these people.

Violet isn't so sure. Over breakfast, she reminds her that the hand is still a work in progress, and the rest of it, even more so.

"You're still fragile," Violet says.

"Bull crap."

"Oh really? You don't just have a therapist making house calls, Charlotte, you have one spending the night."

"No, Cooper had you, and that's because he bailed on me. What happened to oh, this is all very normal?"

"It IS normal. That doesn't mean it isn't still a problem. It's so soon, Charlotte. You need to give yourself time to..."

"To what? Wallow? I need my life back, Violet. I can't just sit here all day with nothing else to do but think!"

Violet gives in. "All right. But I'm not budging on the chaperone issue. You can't be alone right now."

"Violet..."

"No. All right, let's think about this. I have to go in this morning. I have one patient I can't reschedule, and an hour or so of paperwork. Can you find something to do at the office for awhile?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I'm taking the afternoon off. I have to take Cooper to his meeting."

"I'll skip that part."

"You can't avoid him forever, Charlotte."

"No. But I can for today. He bailed on me."

"He was scared."

"Poor baby. He's your friend, I get that. But you're MY therapist, you side with me, no?"

"It's not about sides."

"Whatever. You drop me home, on your way to get him."

Violet sighs. "Okay. I'll see if Amelia can come."

"Or you can leave me."

"No. We talked about this."

"No, YOU talked, I submitted. Maybe I need to stop doing that some."

Violet frowns. "Is this about yesterday? About...about Addison?"

She thinks about it. "Maybe a little. It's a fine line, I think, between trying to guide my choices, and substituting your own instead of them. And you crossed that line, Violet."

"It worked though."

"Yeah. But you forced it, just like Addison did. Another violation."

"Another WHAT?"

"Oh, you didn't know about that? She did a rape kit. Or part of one anyway, hell, I don't know. I declined consent. But she thought she knew better..."

Violet winces. "That's such a...I don't even have the words..."

"Uh huh. And not much different, really, than what you did, when you think about it. I know, I know, it worked, didn't it? The end justifies the means?"

"Oh my god. Charlotte, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. She was too. Look, I am not denying you're the expert here. But I need to start having some control again. So, I'm starting with today. I am choosing: yes to you, but no to Cooper. I'm choosing. And you're going to have to find some way to work with me on this that doesn't involve quite as much forcing from now on."

It's a moment, before Violet speaks again. "I'm sorry."

"I'm telling you what I told her. Do better next time. Start the doing better now. I still need you. Galling though it might be, I'm not all there yet, and I need you."

"It's going to be okay, Charlotte."

"It better be. So, are you gonna help me?"

"I'll help you. Of course I will."

"Well, okay. So, get me ready. Let's go already."

* * *

She brings along a stack of medical journals, but doesn't get to them. There are too many visitors. Cooper is off on a house call with Pete, but Addison is there, and Amelia, and Sheldon. They all come in together. Sheldon is the only one who hasn't seen her yet, but his poker face is almost as good as Amelia's and he greets her courteously and then moves on to his own business.

Addison doesn't though. She interprets their prior thawing as them being friends and and as soon as Sheldon is gone, starts up the nervous chatter.

"Addison?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do me a favour?"

"Yes. Anything."

"Relax, will ya? And if you can't keep your head on straight when you're around me, then for the love of god figure out how to before you come near me again."

Addison sighs. "I just want to help you."

"Well, you need to get over that, because there are better ways to treat me. If you're going to see this every time you look at me..."

"I'm not. I mean, I'm not trying to..."

"Uh huh. Look, put yourself in my shoes. 'There goes Charlotte King, my professional colleague, a doctor I admire?' Or 'There goes poor Charlotte King, the victim, what can I do to HELP her?' Which would you rather, if it was you?"

Addison nods a little too eagerly. "I know, I know. I guess I deserved that."

"Hell yes. Now, I'm not the talking type and I am not going to go sit down with you and have some fruity drink and spill my guts, so what I'm saying now is all you're going to get from me. Listen good. I'm moving past, Addison. Or at least, I'm trying it. And yeah, I know it'll be a slog and I'll have my share of awful crap before all this is done. But in my head, I'm doing it. I'm moving past the wallowing part. You need to do it too. If you're the type that's gonna need some help, there's no shame. But do it. No more pity eyes. No more 'helping.' It's business now. We clear?"

Addison swallows hard, but meets her eyes. "I understand."

* * *

She is alarmed to find herself surprisingly exhausted by the conversation. But she revives when Amelia strolls in, hot on Addison's departing heels. She's carrying a giant box with her, and smiling hugely.

"Hey, chica."

"Amelia."

Amelia plops the box down and grins at her. "Come on, admit it."

"Admit what?"

"You're dying to know what's in the mystery box, aren't you?"

"Not really."

"Oh, come on." Amelia reaches in, pulls a small white bag off the top of whatever's in there. "I brought another cookie for you."

"Sugar's not really my poison."

"Ah, I see, the 'too cool for school' approach. I know this game. All right, than." She reaches into the box again, pulls out something else. "Chips?"

"No."

She drops the chips, pulls out something else. "Diet Coke?"

"Hell no."

"Secret to dealing with Addison on something like this?"

She can't help but smile. "Smooth. Very smooth."

"And at last, something that interests you?"

"Maybe."

"You're not gonna like it though."

"What a surprise."

"Look, here's the thing. Violet, Cooper, all the ones who are having trouble...they're not like you and me. They're sharers. It's an addiction, just like booze or pills can be. And the only way to deal with a sharer is to...well, to share."

"So I gotta let Addison get up in my business?"

"Not necessarily. But doing what your instinct is telling you, which is to hide and avoid and never speak to her again isn't going to help either. You need to spend time with her. Go for drinks after work or something. Let her spend some time with you that isn't about all this."

"And Coop?"

"That's a harder one. You know him better than I do. And he kinda hates me, so..."

"He bailed on me. Last night, it all caught up for a second. Had a bit of a gory moment on him. And he bailed."

"Oh, sweetie."

"Left this morning on some kind of business with Pete before I was up. Haven't talked about it yet."

"Do you want to?"

"Don't know. Don't want to talk about any of it, really. Wouldn't have to if this hadn't happened at all..."

"So you're just going to try and pretend it didn't, and then you get to avoid the whole thing? Is that why you didn't want the rape kit?"

She frowns. "I thought we weren't going to talk about this."

"That was before we were friends. Now that we are, I get to call you on your shit."

"Ah."

"Anyway, you want to see what else is in this box?"

"If it's any kind of board game, I'm gonna have to smack you."

"Nope. Look at this."

She pulls out a jumble of stuff: magazine clippings, paint rollers, cleaning stuff...

"I signed a lease today. I'm moving out of Addison's place."

"Yay for you."

"I think Sam's trying to get rid of me. He knew a guy, and the deal was pretty sweet. Anyway, I figure you're probably going stir-crazy at home right now, and Violet hasn't cleared you to work yet, so maybe you need a project."

"Well, I've been keeping some stats on the Hungry, Hungry Hippos rankings so far..."

"Funny girl. You're about ready to get those stitches out, aren't you? Then we have to to start rehabbing that hand, for real. We're going to paint, and everything. By the time we're done, you might have made headway enough for Violet to clear you."

To her surprise, she feels anxiety at this news. She's moving on. She's ready for the world again. Isn't she? So why is she dreading the thought that Violet might only be a week away from clearing her?

* * *

It turns out Sam's guy was really Cooper's guy, and the apartment is in her building. Amelia is giddy with this surprise.

"We'll be neighbours!"

This relieves her more than she thinks it should. "When do you move in?"

Amelia digs into that box again, pulls out a sunken air mattress. "Tonight. Tomorrow, we shop for furniture."

She surveys the apartment, shakes her head. "Needs cleaning first. You stay with us for a day or two. We'll get this squared away."

Amelia grins again. She had clearly been expecting this offer. "So, what do you want to do this afternoon?"

"I believe you said something about taking out my stitches?"


	8. Chapter 8

Epilogue

They get back from the hospital just before suppertime. Getting out the stitches wasn't nearly as painful as having them in, but she's feeling more tender than she wants to be, and a little sick. And she doesn't want to see Cooper.

"Oh, come on," Amelia says. This seems to be a favourite phrase of hers. "Can we call him at least? Tell him we're home?"

"I don't want to be home," she complains.

Amelia reaches for the phone anyway, and she tenses. If this is going to be like Addison, like Violet...

But Amelia reads her face, and puts the phone down again. "Oh, fine. Hey, let's go to my place. Take some measurements. Make our plan."

But she's too tired, Amelia sees it, so the first thing they do is inflate the air mattress. It's one of those fancy ones where all you have to do is push a button, and it's massive. She lies back, closes her eyes, inhales gratefully. And the next thing she is aware of is the smell of hot cocoa.

She props herself up on her elbows. "Where'd you get that?"

"There's a microwave in the kitchen. A filthy microwave, but a microwave just the same. I've been exploring. You've been out for an hour or so."

She frowns. "I have?"

"Yeah, you have. Hey, it's okay. You needed it."

"But I don't...what time is it?"

"Ten to seven." Amelia holds up her phone for her. "He's texted you, like, fifty times."

"He bailed on me."

"Yeah, he did. He won't, next time."

"No?"

"No. He'll learn. Like all of us are. Why don't I go and get him for you, Char? You could just sit tight for a second, have the cocoa, and I'll get him. Would you like that?"

She's tearing up before she can stop herself and pleading "Do it. Get him now."

By the time Amelia is back with Cooper, she's sobbing so hard that she hasn't even had a chance to notice that for the first time since the attack, she's had a few minutes free of her well-meaning chaperones.

* * *

In the dim light of the single over-head bulb in the bare apartment, Cooper looks soft and shadowy as he sits down beside her and wraps his fingers around her hand.

"Baby, I'm sorry," he whispers.

She tries to squeeze his hand, but she's shaking and she's crying, and she can barely see where he is. He lies down beside her, keeping his hand around hers.

Then she breathes, turns her face a little, rests it on his shoulder. He tries to put his arm around her. She flinches, shrugs back. And lets her head fall back on him.

"You bailed on me," she finally says.

"I know I did. I'm so, so sorry. I was scared..."

"I was too. I was scared, and you bailed on me."

"I just didn't know what to do. Charlotte, what was I...I didn't know what to do..."

"I don't either, you know."

"Yeah. We talked about this, at my group today."

"Oh yeah?"

"I'll spare you the therapy-speak. I know you hate that stuff. But I'll tell you that a lot of feelings I've been having...and I know this is not about me, but I'm just telling you...these feelings are actually extremely common. There's this horrible grief that this happened to you. Anger, that I couldn't stop it, that I wasn't there to...to...and now? Now, I am here, but I don't know what to do, how to help, what to say. So there's more guilt, that you needed me, and I bailed on you. And it just goes round and around..."

"Here's a thought," she says. "What if you didn't have to do anything? You can't fix this, Coop. I'm not sure I can ever really fix it either. I do think...with help, for both of us...we can get to a point where it happened, but other things-better things-will happen too. And we can get on with it. But in the meanwhile? I guess we just have to hurt a little. And ride it out until it passes. Don't leave me again."

"I won't. I promise you, I won't."

"Even if I thrash or scream or kick, don't leave me, Coop."

"I'm here, baby. I'm here."

She needs sleep, like she hasn't in days, and she needs it now. She lets it overtake her. She'll wake up in the morning and she'll still be at Amelia's lying on that mattress. And he'll still be lying beside her with his hand wrapped around her fingers.

the end

_Want to see a sequel? If so, leave me a comment with your ideas for where you'd like to see this go. I have a few of my own, but I am not sure I have enough to sustain a whole epic. So, ideas? Interested? Let me know. _

_Thanks so much for reading!_


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